


Persuasion

by silveryogis



Category: Karneval
Genre: Alley Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryogis/pseuds/silveryogis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Yogi wants is for Gareki to wear the Nyanperona suit for him, but Gareki requires some coercion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Another stupid thing from my tumblr. Because really, how did Yogi get Gareki to wear that thing? This is the only possible answer.

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Gareki-kun, please, you’d—”

“I’m _not_ wearing it.”

“But I really need you, Gareki-kun.”

It’s a pretty convincing argument, he has to admit that. It’s not nearly as convincing as the hands running through his hair or the lips moving against his—none of which is still enough to make him actually wear the damn cat costume. He doesn’t even think it’ll _fit_ him.

“Find someone else,” he says, more impatient to get Yogi’s hands on him more than anything else.“Make Nai do it.”

“He’s too short, Gareki-kun, you know that! Besides, you’d look so cute in it...”

“ _No_.” Gareki pushes his thigh up between Yogi’s legs, and Yogi makes this soft little whining sound before he opens his mouth and gasps against Gareki’s lips. They shouldn’t be doing this here. The parade is still going on, and everyone is probably looking for them, but Gareki can’t be bothered to give a fuck about that, not when Yogi’s kissing him like this.

“ _Please_.”

Gareki turns his eyes to meet his. Yogi looks at him, his pale eyes almost hidden behind all that messy hair, but Gareki can tell that those pupils are blown wide and heavy with want. Good. _Good._

“Convince me.”

“...What?”

“Come on,” he urges, tugging at his hair. He still gives him that even look, so he’ll understand what it is that he wants. Even Yogi can’t be _that_ daft, he doesn’t think. He’s got him this far, backed against the alley with his cock hard; all he wants is to see this through to the end. Maybe. Maybe that’s all he wants. “What’s in it for me?”

Yogi’s voice is a small, soft, timid thing. “... _oh.”_

He runs his tongue over his lips, and for a second, Gareki thinks he’s going to step away, say that _they shouldn’t be doing things like this_ and _he’s too short for the costume anyway_ and _maybe Iva will want to do it instead_ , but instead, something just bare of a smirk curves over his face.

Instinctively, Gareki tips his head back against the wall, and Yogi presses that almost smirk to his neck. His hands are moving all over him, all over his stomach, reaching up his shirt and passing over his chest, squeezing and pinching in all the right places as he bites and sucks at his neck. _Bites. Yogi bites._

That’s something he never expected, and his breath hitches in his throat when Yogi slips a careful hand into his pants.

“Do you like the way that feels, Gareki?” he asks, his voice a lower, more serious thing. Gareki tugs at his hair to tell him _yes_.

There are two sides to Yogi, Gareki knows. He understands that Yogi is childish and immature, but he’s also a fighter, he’s a _warrior._ And that’s who’s wrapping his hand around his dick, that’s who’s licking back into his mouth with heavy, quick breaths. Gareki likes this side of Yogi better.

This one is the real one, anyway.

It doesn’t take long before they’re both just clawing at each other, hips rutting together and hands too many places to even count anymore. Gareki reaches forward and palms Yogi’s cock with his hand, just for some fair retribution, his movement sloppy because he’s too focused on how fucking good everything feels. Yogi’s hand on his dick, his tongue in his mouth, his other hand gripping his ass. 

“So good, Gareki,” he pants against him, “you’re so good.”

He’s not even _doing_ anything, but he doesn’t care because his head is clouding and he feels like he’s about to come in his pants like some fucking kid who can’t control himself. He hisses a breath between his teeth. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Yogi drops to his knees, starts tugging Gareki’s pants down around his thighs. 

Never, _never_ has anyone done this to him before, and Gareki watches him with wide eyes and with a knuckle jammed between his teeth as Yogi licks over his mouth and pulls Gareki’s cock in. 

As soon as his tongue licks over his skin, Gareki wants to come. He wants to come and he wants to come _now_ , right there and all over Yogi’s mouth—he wants to, but he can’t, _he can’t because he’s an adult_ and not some kid who’s never been touched. He can handle more than ten seconds of Yogi’s mouth, he can, he _will._

He’ll do it. He’ll wear the stupid costume if it means he can have _this_ , if it means he can have this again and again. Yogi’s mouth flexes around his cock, and he whines, wanting more of that, wanting those beautiful pale cheeks to hollow and suck until there’s nothing left in him to give. He _wants_ that.

“God damnit,” he groans, and Yogi gives him something like a determined look, sinking his mouth deeper over him. _Fuck._ His eyebrows knit like he’s worried, so Gareki digs his fingers through his hair to let him know how good it is. _So good._ “Come on, keep going.”

So he does, and he sucks on his cock with such a graceful determination that Gareki can’t help but lose himself in it. There’s no way Yogi has ever done this before, he can tell that with the way he’s just a _little_ bit clumsy and with the way he doesn’t seem quite used to the wall his mouth is so full with it, but his mouth is still so hot and his tongue is still so clever.

Gareki doesn’t think he’s going to last another ten seconds, when Yogi moans. Moans around his cock like he _likes_ it in his mouth. Gareki gasps, and he starts to feel it. Feels it building, feels all of that heat burning with no where else to go but _out._ He looks at Yogi, with his mouth stretched and stuffed full with his dick, and he groans. It’s loud, but he can’t _not_ be. 

And then—and then Yogi pulls back and dives back in with such _fervor_ that it’s over. Yogi moans again, and it’s a deep, wanting thing that makes everything feel so much hotter. Gareki grits his teeth, bucks into Yogi’s mouth. It’s so close, he’s almost—his head is swimming, just one more pull and he’s done, he’s—

He comes, _finally_ he comes, and it’s so fucking amazing, he doesn’t know why they don’t do this every damn _five minutes._ Yogi pulls away just a little too soon, his lips swollen and his face flushed. He swallows, panting. _Fuck._

“How—how was that?” he asks, staying on his knees. Gareki sinks down to the ground, rests his head back against the alley wall. He knows he’ll agree to wearing the damn thing now, but the only problem is, he doesn’t feel like moving. Not even a little.

“It was fine,” he says with a light shrug, but he knows Yogi can _tell_ how it was. Yogi smiles at him and there’s—there’s still come on the corners of his lips, but he’s running his tongue over his mouth and cleaning it up like he likes how it tastes. Which Gareki knows he doesn’t.

What an idiot.

Gareki half smiles at him, and notices how hard Yogi still looks. He keeps his eyes on the bulge in his pants for a few seconds, feeling Yogi’s expectant eyes on him.

And then he stands up.

“Alright,” he says, tugging his own pants back up. _His head is still swimming._ “We made a deal. I’ll wear the stupid cat thing. You can go do whatever it is you need to do.”

For a second, Yogi gives him this desperate little look that makes Gareki want to dive back down and do the same thing to him (just to see what it’s like, he wants to make Yogi feel like that, too), but a deal was a deal.

Yogi’s words tumble out of his mouth faster than Gareki can ever understand him. “Thank you Gareki-kun! You’ll be a great Nyanperona! You just have to remember to give all the kids candy, don’t leave anyone out because they won’t—”

Gareki picks up the cat head, leans forward to mutter into his ear. “I’ll have something for you later.”

He barely sees the flush on Yogi’s face in the dark, but he gives him one quick smirk before he pulls the mascot head over his own.


End file.
